


Dress Rehearsal

by unrealkinkster (criticalkink)



Category: Critical Role (Web Series) RPF
Genre: Community: criticalkink, Crossdressing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-12-23 04:41:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11982354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/criticalkink/pseuds/unrealkinkster
Summary: Matt wants a fresh set of eyes on an outfit he's planning to debut for his partners.He winds up with more than just eyes on it.





	Dress Rehearsal

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on the kmeme [here](http://criticalkink.dreamwidth.org/972.html?thread=350156#cmt350156).

Liam is trigamous in a way: married to his wife, his work, and Sam, in varying order of importance depending on the circumstances.

“You already have Marisha and Taliesin. Isn’t that enough?” he says when Matt comes to him requesting time alone together. “Not that I’m not interested,” he adds perhaps a little too hastily, “but I thought we both had full dance cards.”

“This is something for them that I want to... run by a test audience first.”

“I can’t think of anything you could do for them that would freak them out.”

“I just want to be sure it’ll work,” Matt says, and so they end up making a date for that rarest of things, a Friday afternoon when they both have time off.

It has to be at Matt’s place, because being caught by Taliesin or Marisha and ruining whatever the surprise is is infinitely preferable to getting caught by any of Liam’s family members. Plus Liam’s confident that Matt will feel more comfortable in his own space. Whatever this is, Matt already seems nervous enough without exacerbating it.

“If you want to just wait on the couch, I’ll go, uh, get organized,” Matt says.

Liam lets Dagon out of her cage and sits down. “Take your time.”

He’s not sure what he’s expecting. Conversing with Dagon is certainly a pleasant way to spend the time until he finds out, though. She’s chatty, flirty, nibbling his earlobe and keeping her chirps demure rather than screaming in his ear. Clearly she’s in a good mood.

Her good mood lessens when she realizes that Liam is not a source of food. She goes from nibbling his earlobe to a couple of sharp pecks, and then screams at him when he pulls her away.

“Sorry, darling, but if you’re going to bite, you have to go back in the cage.” Not that it’s much of a punishment considering how heavily loaded her cage is with toys, swings, and ropes. He remembers Taliesin’s offhand comment of it looking like a “birdy BDSM dungeon” and snickers.

Back to waiting, but he doesn’t have to wait long.

“Liam? Are you ready?”

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to be ready _for_ , Matt, but I’m _here_.”

Matt steps into the room, and Liam’s heart does a neat little backflip that forces his blood straight down into his cock. 

He wouldn’t know personally, but Liam imagines it would be quite difficult for a man of five foot nine to find a little black dress, even in Los Angeles. Maybe if he’d asked Taliesin, because Taliesin knows where to find everything , but Matt’s secrecy says that he didn’t.

The black dress is a halterneck, which leaves most of Matt’s back and shoulders bare and also gives a pleasing look to his chest, making it unimportant that he doesn’t fill out the front of the dress in the same way that a woman would. It falls to his knees with a little flare, not ultra clingy but not so flowing that it shrouds his body shapelessly.

Liam’s gaze traces down Matt’s body as Matt keeps slowly turning. The simplicity of the dress is matched by the simplicity of his shoes, black ballet flats with a ribbon tie that crosses over at his stocking-clad ankles. Looking back up he can see the vaguest outline of a garter clip on Matt’s outer left thigh. That’s when he realizes that the skirt of the dress isn’t all just one layer, but two: there’s a soft lace layer over the top. Matt watches him realizing it and does a twirl, letting the fabric spin out. He’s smiling. Nervously, but smiling.

Liam unsticks his tongue from the roof of his mouth. “What problem exactly did you think Marisha and Taliesin would have with this?”

“I don’t know,” Matt admits. “I just wanted to get a second opinion from someone I really trusted to not laugh.”

A list of names quickly runs through Liam’s mind and, yes, he has to admit that of their closest circle of friends he is probably the least likely to laugh. After Ashley, anyway, and she’s on the wrong side of the continent.

“I’m definitely not laughing.”

“So, tell me what you think.” Matt comes over to the couch and sits down, checking his skirt as he sits and smoothing the lace down in a way that suggests he’s practiced at least that much before. “Is it pretty?”

Now he’s up close Liam can see that Matt’s done something with makeup as well; just a touch of mascara and eyeliner and a hint of eyeshadow. He’s no expert on makeup beyond plastering it on so he doesn’t look like a ghost onstage, but this is more delicate than that. Matt’s lips look normal but on closer inspection—Liam finds himself leaning in a little—they’re soft with gloss.

“Pretty. Yes. And elegant.” He’s trying to keep his gaze on Matt’s face but it keeps finding other interesting things to look at: a very faded bite mark on Matt’s shoulder in a location suggesting the biter was behind him at the time; the way Matt’s skirt rides up when he crosses his legs, giving an indication of where the stockings stop mid-thigh; the way one of the decorative ribbons around his ankles has come undone from its bow.

“Something wrong?”

“Gimme your foot.” Liam lifts the offending shoe onto his knee and disentangles the ribbon from its half-knot, checks it against the other shoe, and then draws the bow tight around Matt’s ankle once more. He’s focused on getting it right—for all he knows, Matt might be planning to debut the outfit for his lovers tonight—but he hears the catch in Matt’s breathing when he ties the bow.

Keeping his eyes on Matt’s ankle, Liam slowly runs the palm of his hand up the outside of Matt’s calf. It feels very smooth through the stocking.

“Did you shave your legs?” 

“I got them waxed. It’s been a couple of days; last time I did it my skin was red for a week and I looked like hell. I had to change cosplay ideas at the last minute.”

“Ouch,” says Liam, fingertips still gliding up and down Matt’s calf, whispering over the stocking. “That’s never fun.”

“Mmmm, no.” Matt seems distracted. Liam simply can’t imagine why.

“So what’s the plan here? Are you wearing this out to dinner?”

“God, no. I don’t think I can leave the house in it.”

“Aw, you don’t want Taliesin to be able to strut around town with his two girlfriends on his arms?” Liam teases.

Matt falls into a thinking silence. Liam lets his hand wander a little higher, wondering how far he can go before he crosses the line between confirming the outfit’s attractiveness, and impropriety.

“I guess it wouldn’t be the weirdest thing this town’s ever seen,” Matt says at last, voice a little strained. Liam looks up at him and sees that Matt’s cheeks have gone pink beyond what the light dusting of makeup can account for.

“Can I ask what you’re wearing under there? Does the look go all the way to the skin?” Liam asks as lightly as possible.

Matt goes pinker. “I thought it should,” he admits. “I thought, if I’m dressing like this, either they’re going to laugh at me and it won’t matter what I’m wearing, or they’ll love it but be disappointed if I didn’t follow through all the way.”

“I feel like waxing your legs is plenty of follow-through,” Liam says, looking back down. His hand has reached the point where Matt’s ridden-up skirt covers his thighs; he touches the soft fabric, not quite clear on what it is under the lace layer but liking the texture.

Matt’s shoe slides along Liam’s thigh, drawing a soft sound out of Liam’s throat. He can feel the pressure of Matt’s foot very close to where he would rather like some attention right now, but this is Matt’s moment—Matt’s trial run.

Anyway, he hasn’t finished looking at the whole outfit yet.

Liam pushes the hem of the skirt up a little further, and a little further, and finds where the sleek black stocking ends and Matt’s skin begins. He touches the clip of the garter where it’s hooked onto the stocking; a small silver heart adorns it. 

“Very pretty,” he comments.

“Thank you.” Matt’s voice is whispery as Liam’s fingers move from stocking to skin and back again. “I wanted it to get a little more interesting beyond the dress.”

Liam laughs. “If you don’t think the dress is interesting enough, then you’re kidding yourself.”

He can feel the heat coming off Matt’s body. Matt’s other foot, planted on the floor for balance, has shifted to give Liam room to better explore the nuances of the outfit. Liam moves closer, losing the pressure of Matt’s foot on his thigh, but needing to get closer to properly decide whether this will be good enough or if there are any changes he should suggest.

The skin of Matt’s inner thigh is beautifully soft. Liam trails one finger upward and finds lace again, lace and satin and a shiver from Matt. He glances up and sees closed eyes, teeth digging into that glossy lower lip, and skin flushed pink down the throat and upper chest. 

“May I see?”

Matt nods, wordless.

Liam pushes Matt’s skirt right up to his waist; it doesn’t want to stay there given the way Matt’s legs are spread, but it’s good enough for Liam to see the contrast between Matt’s pale skin and the black of the lacy underwear that matches the rest of the outfit. There’s a tiny bow ornamented with a silver heart on the waistband, and a small wet spot on the front satin panel. Liam rubs this last with his thumb and Matt lets out a high, shaky whimper.

“Jesus, Liam...”

“Ssssh. I want to get the full effect.” Liam squeezes Matt through the satin and watches Matt’s eyes fall closed again, though it’s clear he’s trying to watch. “Mmmm. I don’t think either of your lovers are going to be disappointed by this, Matthew.” He circles his palm over Matt and watches Matt’s mouth fall open, lip gloss forming a shining circle that Liam can’t not kiss.

It doesn’t take long before Matt’s gasping against Liam’s mouth, spreading wetness under Liam’s firmly stroking hand. Not long at all.

He’s unsurprisingly pliable after that, all too happy to shift over onto his knees and prop himself up against the arm of the couch. Liam pushes the dress back up to Matt’s waist and takes a long moment to stroke Matt’s thighs, fingers passing from skin to satin, satin to skin, skin to stockings.  Matt makes all sorts of interesting noises while he does so, pushing back against Liam’s hands, especially when Liam’s thumbs press in and down along the line of Matt’s lean but quite grabbable ass.

Liam debates for a second pulling Matt’s underwear down around his knees, but he wants Matt to have a little more freedom to move than that. He opts for simply unfastening his jeans and nudging forward into the small space between Matt’s thighs. Matt immediately presses his thighs tighter together. Liam can feel the brush of satin, the slide of sticky wetness against his bare skin.

“Jesus, Liam,” Matt repeats.

Liam hushes him again, this time by way of leaning forward over Matt’s back and closing his teeth over the spot where that older bite mark still lingers. Matt writhes under him, voicing a feminine moan when Liam sneaks a hand under him to touch his chest and pinch at one of his nipples.

“You are _such_ a pretty woman.” Liam’s hands shift back to Matt’s hips, holding him steady as he moves between Matt’s thighs. “You’ll need to clean this lovely outfit before you show it off to anyone else.”

Matt doesn’t ask why. He doesn’t need to.

Liam is spoiled for choice, but in the end chooses the satin-clad curve of Matt’s backside and the strip of bare flesh between the underwear and the rucked-up dress, striping Matt white, fingertips of his free hand digging into Matt’s hip. His moan is long and low; he can feel Matt quaking under him, not from holding his position but from the intensity of the moment.

He moves off of Matt, zipping his jeans to quest to the bathroom for a wet washcloth. When he comes back Matt’s still holding his position, and if Liam had a faster recovery time he’d do it all again immediately.

Instead he wipes Matt’s skin and underwear off, then pulls him to his feet, dabbing at the front of Matt’s underwear, which will need more than a little cleanup. His main concern is the couch, but it seems to be relatively unscathed.

The air smells of sex and of a light perfume he hadn’t even noticed Matt was wearing.

“I take it that’s a yes to wearing this for Marisha and Taliesin.” Matt goes to his knees in front of Liam and tugs Liam’s jeans back open,  wielding the washcloth.

“That would be corr—oh.” Matt’s not using the washcloth to clean him up after all.His tongue on oversensitive skin is almost too much, but then there’s not a great deal of mess.

Still, Matt is _very_ thorough. Liam finds one hand in Matt’s hair again, fingers tight in the silky strands, before he’s done.

Matt excuses himself to the bedroom and returns in pyjama pants and a t-shirt. He looks comfortably sated, both physically and with the affirmation that his choice of clothing has worked on one person at least.

They curl up on the couch together for a little while before duty calls and Liam’s off home while Matt goes to the kitchen to start on dinner.

One last kiss at the door, this one not tempered by gasping desire but rather a special _thank you_ / _you’re welcome_ before their separate worlds take them again, at least until the next time.

*

When Matt debuts the outfit for Marisha and Taliesin—who both unequivocally love it—it’s accessorized by a simple silver bracelet, nestled among his wristbands, dangling a small silver heart.


End file.
